


The Soldier and the Slave

by Fruipit



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: Blood and Torture, F/F, Happy Ending, Roman!AU, alternate universe - history setting, praetor!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 08:58:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9065047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fruipit/pseuds/Fruipit
Summary: Anna wasn't always a slave, but by now, she's kind of used to it. It still sucks, though. That was before she came into the service of Elsa, praetor in the Roman Army, after which her whole life becomes so much better. And then everything goes to shit. [praetor!AU, rating for sex, violence, torture, and a bit of blood. mentioned hansoff]





	

**Author's Note:**

> [notes: completely made up how slaves were treated when romans actually, y'know, started fighting.]
> 
> continuation of the praetor!au of last year. The first little part of this is actually that first drabble. The new content can be found under the '6 months later' subheading.
> 
> dedicated to fozziewazxi (and my christmas present to them) because they're the absolute best. no doubt about it. i really hope it lives up to your hopes and expectations :)
> 
> [notes 2: warning for physical punishment and a lot of pain. sex, but no rape. happy fluffy ending :)]

She'd called for surrender, and they'd given her a war.

Elsa held little sympathy for the barbarians who opposed her. For their good, and the good of the Empire, they would fall. The New World was only so very small, and Rome intended on conquering all of it. It was better to come willingly than attempt to escape the fate that Rome would one day own them all.

Her own parents had made that wise decision, moving from the alpine fjords to the very heart of the civilised world. Elsa only lamented the loss of her home; not the wealth that the move had brought.

She'd proven herself to be valuable to the fight; the consul didn't care about her origins.

It was a matter of power. Rome could not fall to the Gaulish brutes. It was conquer or be conquered. For the good of all, sacrifices must be made, whether they be loyal Romans, or the people of Gaul who'd never lifted a sword in their life.

And when the battle ended and all that lay around them were the bodies of the dead, Elsa turned and left, walking to the edge of the city. The soldiers could argue and quarrel amongst themselves, fighting like vultures to gain the best spoils; some meat from homes, candles, coins.

People.

The consul would care, she imagined. The wealth of the towns, cities they conquered, became Rome's wealth. To steal after a won battle was to steal from Rome herself.

But the men were tired and _she_ was tired, and the only things left were the people. Rome would not care if another family owned another slave.

"Praetor!"

A voice called from behind her, and Elsa turned. A young man, fresh-faced but with haunted eyes (eyes of war, Elsa told herself. The same eyes that every man on her regimen carried) was running towards her, armour jangling. He dropped to a bow at her feet, and she nodded, motioning for him to stand.

"Praetor," he began, "the leader, Dumnorix. He fell in battle, the only marker of his station being a ring."

He moved forward and dropped the golden jewellery into the praetor's hand. Elsa frowned. The consul had wanted the leader of the town; and who was she to defy their orders? But, how could she have predicted the man would leave his home to partake in battle?

The soldier's next words broke her from her train of thought.

"But, the men… they've found his kin; a girl."

Elsa furrowed her brows. "Datter…" she murmured to herself. When the man gave her a strange look, she coughed. "Daughter," she corrected. His eyes lit up with recognition, and a question, but with a stiff nod, she dismissed him.

That was when she heard the scream.

Hurriedly moving back through the city, Elsa found herself stumbling across a sight that should have been rarer than it was. A circle of soldiers were standing around a prone form, pushing, shoving, grabbing. Elsa held little hope that their intentions were pure. She moved forward, mouth opening to interrupt, when the figure cried again. This time, being closer, she could hear the rough, unfamiliar tongue of the Gauls accompanying it, spoken in the higher tones of a woman terrified.

"Praetor!"

As soon as her title was called, the men stopped and turned. Faces scowling – likely upset at being caught before they could take their prize – the men backed off. All but one, who grabbed the girl and flung her towards Elsa. Forced into a low bow, the girl struggled, striking out at the man holding her down; it almost made a small smile shine through Elsa's features when the man doubling over, groaning. This girl was a feisty one.

"Enough," Elsa said when it looked like the man would fight back. "This is Dumnorix's child?"

The way the girl stiffened at the name gave Elsa all the information she needed, and with a smirk, she knelt down, her face inches from the soft, freckled one. "So, what is your name?" In reality, Elsa didn't expect an answer. She just needed the girl to say something – submit to the might of Rome and show that she understood who was in charge.

But, all she did was stare back defiantly, her mouth sealed shut. Elsa frowned.

"Tell me, and the men won't hurt you," she urged again. The girl's jaw worked back and forth as though she were chewing on an answer, only to completely defy Elsa's expectations by throwing her head back and spitting into the praetor's face. The action was accompanied by a harsh Gaulish word that Elsa completely ignored.

Grabbing the girl by her jowl, Elsa pulled her free hand back, hand curling into a fist. The girl didn't even flinch, staring Elsa down while she waiting for the strike.

It never came.

"Så vakkert, det ville være synd å ødelegge…" Elsa murmured to herself as she lowered her fist. Her other hand was still on the prisoner's face, forcing the girl to look at her. It took Elsa a moment to realise how warm the skin beneath her hands had become, and how the face slowly began to colour, drowning out the numerous freckles.

The prisoner stopped struggling, instead fighting to avert her gaze. Elsa's eyes widened a fraction, and her mouth hung open for a moment as she collected her thoughts.

"Du… forstått det? Du er ikke herfra?"

When the girl nodded, Elsa felt a blush rising to her own face. Swallowing, she climbed to her feet, dusting herself off at the same time.

"Dumnorix had no child," she said to the men gathered. "This girl is a slave, taken from Svea Rike. She speaks my tongue, and the language of the barbarous Gauls. She will translate, but for now, she is my property."

And with that, Elsa turned to the girl. She crouched down, waiting for her men to disperse. They did not take long, choosing to go back to fighting over the spoils rather than entertain a slim hope that their praetor would change her mind.

"Hva heter du?" she said softly, once she was sure the men would not hear. Not that they could understand, but her foreign lineage was not something she was proud of; not in this conquest. But, the familiar words brought a smile to the girl's face, and she was much more accommodating to answer.

"Anna. Mit navn er Anna."

Elsa nodded. "Mit navn er Elsa."

This campaign just got much more interesting…

* * *

**_Six Months Later..._ **

Soft cries filled the space within Elsa's tent. The air was still and thick, a humidity left over from the day that settled hot and heavy on the skin of the occupants. In moments like these, the outside faded to nothing as Elsa's world zeroed in to the lips on her thighs and fingers at her core.

"Nnng," she moaned, biting her lip to suppress the noise. Not that she feared being heard; her tent was thick and isolated, away from the general riff-raff of the soldiers. Simply put, even in her own tent she had to keep up appearances. She couldn't be seen to be weak – certainly not in front of a slave.

A hand snaked down her body to brush blindly through auburn locks at her core. The lips moved up, a warm tongue laving at the juncture of her thigh and pelvis. There was a pleasant pressure, slowly building just below her belly-button.

And then Anna's mouth was pressed against her, sucking and nibbling as one finger, then two, entered the praetor.

It did not take long, with the combined efforts of Anna's fingers and mouth, to push Elsa over the edge. The stresses of war were easily forgotten in the midst of pleasure. Elsa's hips shuddered and jerked, and her back arched off the bed.

Anna wanted to walked her mouth up Elsa's lean abs and wrap her lips around the peak of a still nipple, but before she had the option to move, Elsa was pushing her away, still gasping for breath. Anna licked Elsa's taste from her lips, and squeezed her own legs together. It wasn't much, but it was something.

"Mmm..." Elsa moaned again, though this time it was one of contentment, not pleasure. Anna looked at her and smiled, and Elsa grinned back tiredly. She blinked blearily, yawning before speaking.

"No... no need to clean up," she said, voice thick. "You may go."

At once, Anna felt a cool chill wash over her, and her chest felt empty for a moment. Face carefully schooled to be impassive, she bowed, throwing her shirt on and picking up the rest of her clothes before leaving. Elsa's eyes were already shut, sleep overcoming her.

* * *

It wasn't hard, once she'd finished getting dressed, to find warmer company. Her friend, Kristoff, had similar duties to her, as he was also a personal slave – though, not to the praetor. He raised an eyebrow at the remaining bundle of cloth in her hand, but didn't question it.

"Hey," he said after a moment. He was feeding his master's horse, and she was scowling.

"Shouldn't you be asleep?" Anna asked irritably. Kristoff shrugged, but didn't answer. Biting her lip, Anna glanced between her friend and the horse he was feeding. "Hey, Kris… can I ask you something?"

She waited until he had locked eyes with her and nodded. "Do you- when the legate uses you for… _fun_ … do you ever…" She chewed on her words for a second. "Do you ever _get off_?"

Kristoff stared at her for a moment. He blinked slowly as a smile began to creep up his face. "Are you kidding me? Anna… we're _slaves_. We don't get that kind of _fun_ , as you put it. They don't see us as anything more than objects." Anna frowned.

"You didn't answer my question," she argued, and Kristoff let out a long-suffering sigh.

"If – _if_ – I get off," he said, "it's not on purpose. Hans- the legate, he doesn't do anything for _my_ enjoyment." He gave a huff, and his next words sounded more like recitation than truth. "Simply serving them should be enough."

They fell into silence as Anna mulled over his words. How anyone could believe that was beyond her. Surely Elsa couldn't be that dense? She wasn't even a native Roman!

She was brought back to the present when Kristoff nudged her. "C'mon, it's not that bad." Anna scoffed.

"Why? Coz Elsa is the leader? She's not that bad to look at? Please, Kris. She's even stupider than you are when it comes to these matters. She's even worse than everyone else. I thought..."

"You thought what?"

Anna sighed. "I thought that, coz we came from the same place, that she'd- that _this_ \- would be different."

Kristoff gave a loud chuckle that echoed through the still night. "Seriously, Anna? It _is_ different. Who else can call the praetor by her name? She _likes_ you-" here, his voice dropped to a low whisper, "-even _Hans_ has noticed. And you know that _I'm_ not allowed to just use his name, and he isn't even as important as Elsa." With that, he clapped her on the back. "Come on, it's a long march tomorrow. You should get some rest."

Anna nodded, her gaze on the floor and mind awhirl. She doubted she'd get much sleep at all.

* * *

Opening her eyes, Elsa was greeted to the gentle light of the morning sun, shining on her tent. It basked the space in a warm ruddy orange, and she let out a little grin. It felt like the day would be a good one – why not start with the happiness early?

Looking around, she began to get dressed, although she ran into some trouble when she was unable to locate her undershirt. Had Anna taken it? Honestly, she couldn't remember. She'd fallen asleep not long after the girl had left, and Anna may have wanted to wash it or something. Elsa wasn't sure.

She gave a frown and crawled over to the entrance. Poking her head out, the camp was already bustling with activity. The other slaves were getting the horses ready, and preparing a light breakfast for the generals – the soldiers would find their own.

Speaking of… Anna _should_ have been on her way with breakfast, if not here already. Her eyes roamed across the camp, searching for a telltale flash of red. A loud snore to her left interrupted her.

"Anna?"

And indeed it was Anna, lying off to the side on her own woven rug, still blissfully asleep.

"Anna!" Elsa hissed, a little louder. Anna gave another snore and turned over, but she didn't wake. Elsa bit her lip.

She couldn't march over there and wake Anna up – not without her shirt on. As much as she didn't mind letting the red headed woman sleep in a little (they _did_ have a long day ahead of them), she absolutely needed her clothes. Which were currently... under Anna's head, being used as a pillow.

Rolling her eyes, Elsa searched around the ground for a moment for a loose pebble before throwing it, aiming for Anna's head. The girl shot up as the small rock made contact with her forehead, rubbing the spot as she looked for the source of the attack. When she saw Elsa, her face erupted into an embarrassed flush and she sprung to her feet.

"El- praetor, I-"

Elsa didn't give her a chance to finish. "Hurry up, Anna. We have a long day ahead of us. If you don't wake up earlier tomorrow, you'll be eating breakfast with the horses."

She turned around and ducked back inside her tent, leaving Anna to flounder outside for a moment.

The tent, already warm from the morning sun, concealed her soft smile perfectly.

* * *

"Tell me about yourself, Anna."

Over the sound of horses neighing, their hooves clattering on the rocky path, Anna barely heard Elsa's soft voice. The praetor had been silent to Anna up until that point, using her voice only to bark orders at her soldiers. Honestly, Anna hadn't expected Elsa to speak to her at all after the dismal display that morning. Of course she'd hurried to attend to every whim the commander could think up after she'd unwittingly caused her ire, but usually that would have been too late to avoid some punishment.

As such, it took Anna a few more seconds than usual to respond. She was also slowly growing used to using her native tongue, but it was still strange hearing it from someone else. Stranger still, hearing it come from the mouth of one of the most powerful people in Rome.

All of that, and Anna still had no idea how to respond. Why would the praetor be interested in her, anyway?

She shrugged (though it made her stumble, almost veering into Elsa's horse before she corrected her balance) and chanced a look up at Elsa, but her face was blocked by the harsh, late-afternoon sun.

"Not much to say," she answered vaguely. "What would you like to know?"

Elsa was silent for several long moments. Anna adjusted the rucksack on her shoulders, thankful (in some far reach of her mind) that Elsa liked to travel lightly.

"Just... tell me about yourself. Anything at all."

While Anna thought it was a rather unusual request – who honestly cared about slaves? – she thought it would be best to humour Elsa at the very least. Clearing her throat to buy time, she searched madly for anything to say.

"Well…" she began, "You already know my name. I'm twenty-or-so – don't exactly remember. I was born in a little township called Solheim. We used to fish a lot, especially in the summer. My father owned the best trout farm that side of the country." She gave a proud grin, before it slowly slipped away. "But then he died, and Mamma couldn't feed us, so I left."

"Us?"

Anna turned her sights on Elsa again (though she was just as, if not _more_ blinded by the sun this time). "My brother had just turned three when this happened. He probably doesn't even remember me." She gave a sad smile. "Probably for the best, anyway. My papa always said-"

Whatever Anna's father would say was cut short as a familiar horse caught up with them, coming from the opposite direction. Anna bit back a smile as she heard the grumbles of her fellow slaves. Sitting atop a broad-chested chestnut horse was the legate, Hans; Anna gave a short bow, and received a smile in return.

Odd.

But then he turned that wonderful smile to Elsa, and gave her a small bow. "Praetor," he began. They spoke in Latin, but Anna understood a few words. 'Town' and 'camp' being the most important ones. When Elsa gave him a stiff nod and turned to back to Anna, her guess had turned out to be correct.

"Anna, begin setting up my tent on the best ground you can find." She nodded, and was about to scurry off when Elsa said her name again.

"And, Anna?" Elsa continued. "Make sure to wash before you come to my tent tonight." Anna gave another nod before turning back, ready to claim the softest, flattest area for the praetor's sleeping quarters.

Maybe... maybe tonight was the night she got to stay in the tent, too. Something was definitely up, at least. She was kind of excited.

She walked with a spring in her step for the rest of the afternoon.

* * *

She was out looking for Kristoff when she heard her name called. Closing her eyes, Anna cursed. She was only supposed to find him so he could take care of Elsa's horse, and then wash up before returning to Elsa. Turning in her spot, Anna was surprised to find… the legate approaching her? She glanced around; there was no one but her.

"Legate!" she cried out in surprise, dropping to the floor in a low bow. He bid her rise, before shooting her a small smile.

He opened his mouth to speak, closed it, coughed, and began again.

"Vordarn are doo?" Anna's eyes widened at the horrible attempt at her language. Then, she let out a little giggle.

"Hvordan er du?" she corrected. Hans' own mouth widened into a grin, and he nodded. Anna continued, "Jeg er god. Og du?"

"Yay are gore." He pulled a face and cleared his throat again. "Perhaps we should converse in Gaulish..."

Anna's smile fell as her eyes widened. "You- you speak Gaulish?" she asked, completely aware of the answer because, well. He'd just used it.

"Of course I do," he said, answering in the barbarian tongue. "My father was determined to have all his sons knowledgable in the world. It's easier to, hmm, communicate with other people when they feel you've made an effort."

Anna was confused. She almost asked another question when she remembered her place and bit her lip. The legate seemed to sense her bemusement because he continued with a, "It isn't common knowledge. And, if it's the same to you, I'd prefer it stayed that way."

He gave her a wink, and for the first time since becoming a slave, Anna got the feeling that it wasn't an order. She gave a smile and nodded.

"Is there, er, something you needed from me, sir?" she asked. Hans frowned for a second before his eyes brightened.

"Tomorrow," he began, before stopping and collecting his thoughts. Anna waited patiently. "You are to sit with Elsa tomorrow when negotiating with their leader. She's afraid they will use Gaulish to talk about us – plan underhanded tactics – behind our backs. You're just to sit and listen."

"Why don't you do it yourself? Uh, sir," she questioned, bowing her head. He just laughed it off.

"Elsa likes you more than me." Anna ducked her head bashfully, but didn't have a chance to speak before Hans continued. "I just wanted to say, 'good luck'. Um. Licker-till?"

Anna giggled again. "Likke til? Takk, legate."

Hans mouth split into a wide grin, and he nodded. "Good night, Anna," he said before turning away. "Get a good night's sleep. You have a very important job tomorrow."

And with that, he was gone, leaving Anna by herself. She stared after him for a long moment before jerking her head.

She had jobs to do.

* * *

Freshly bathed, Anna felt as though her skin were glowing. Her hair was still a little damp, but it felt kind of nice as she ran her hands through it. She tugged at her clothes once, twice, and then blew her bangs from her forehead.

She was being stupid. She was being really, _really_ stupid. Elsa had probably only asked her to wash because no one liked a dirty, filthy slave licking at their skin.

It took her eyes a few seconds to adjust when she pushed through the entrance. There was a candle burning in a bowl of water, giving off a little light. Anna almost missed Elsa, lounging back on her bed, a goblet of wine in her hand.

She told herself she was seeing things when Elsa held out out, inviting her to take a sip.

"Well, come on, Anna," she said, a giggle in her voice. "I haven't got all night."

Remembering her manners, Anna dropped to her knees in a bow before crawling forward. Elsa wiggled the goblet in her hand, resting the lip of it against Anna's lips.

It was strong, but sweet, and Anna felt it tingle on her tongue long after she'd swallowed it down. Elsa drained what was left in the cup, and placed it to the side. She sat up and removed her top, signalling Anna do the same.

The routine, aside from the bathing and the alcohol, never wavered. They would lose their clothes, and Anna would lay siege, as it were, to Elsa's body.

Even after all this time, Anna's skin still trembled at the feel of Elsa next to her. When Elsa's fingers brushed along her freckles and wound their way into her hair, she had to bite her lip to stop any noise escaping.

She had two fingers buried in Elsa, thumb pressing against her clit while she suckled at a soft breast, when the idea came to her.

Pulling back, she let her fingers slip from Elsa, relishing in the choked cry it created. She pressed her thighs together even as her motions became sloppy, dragging Elsa away from the orgasm she had been building towards.

"Wha-?" Elsa started, and Anna knew enough to give a look of sheepish guilt.

"Sorry. My, uh, hand is really cramping. And my jaw."

Elsa let out a sigh, raising herself on her elbows so she could look at Anna.

The other girl was perspiring, the heat of the tent or their activities, Elsa couldn't tell. She no longer smelled of dirt, which was a relief, and atop her clean skin sparkled a thousand freckles. Anna's eyes were dilated, nipples raised, and there was something in her expression that Elsa couldn't read. When she didn't say anything, Anna moved forward, just a little, though she still didn't resume her touches.

She was taking a huge risk, suggesting this. Elsa could as easily agree as she could order her to be executed. Not that Anna believed she would, but she _could_. So she sought to distract her.

Fingers moving gently against Elsa, Anna leaned down and began kissing her way up the willowy body. She paused a moment to dip her tongue into Elsa's bellybutton before moving on, closing her lips around one aching nipple.

And while Elsa was distracted, she used her free hand to lift Elsa's, bringing it to her own breast.

Anna didn't mean to moan into Elsa's skin, but she couldn't hold it back; it had been so long since she was touched – touched with any care or finesse, that is. She had so many bad memories of sex, but this? This was certainly not one of them. This was _good_. It was soft and pleasant and maybe it had something to do with the way her cheeks flushed and heart heartbeat picked up at the thought of Elsa, but really, that didn't matter right now. All that mattered was she was touching Elsa, and being touched in return.

Unfortunately, it took only several seconds before Elsa realised what was happening, and she jerked her hand away, pushing Anna back so she could survey the girl.

"What are you doing?" she asked, voice clear but low. Anna could feel her face burning, but she forced herself to answer, even if it was barely above a whisper.

"I... want to be touched, too..." she mumbled.

She had stopped, and could almost see the gears turning in Elsa's head. Finally, after far too long, the praetor spoke.

"Would you- I can get another slave to please you, if you want?" she offered.

Anna had no words for how she felt. There was a burning in her chest that wasn't anger – it was something closer to humiliation. Sadness, perhaps? She hadn't gotten her hopes up, but for some reason, they still felt... dashed.

"N-no, that's not-"

"Would you having that make you feel better?"

Anna let out a silent exhale. "Forget it," she said. "If you would excuse me, I just remembered that I forgot to clean Olaf's tack. My apologies, praetor. I'll be sure to arise at a more appropriate time tomorrow. Good night, praetor."

Elsa was left alone as Anna threw on her clothes and, bowing, exited the tent. Her body was still wound up, and the gentle breeze that came in through the temporarily-open tent flap only highlighted the residual wetness on the inside of her thighs.

No matter how hard she tried, Elsa did not have a restful sleep that night.

* * *

When Elsa awoke the next day, Anna was already standing outside the tent, a bowl of clean water in one hand and oats in the other. She hadn't had a good night's sleep, either; the ground was hard, and cold in the early hours of the morning. At least it ensured she didn't oversleep again – and at least they didn't have to march anymore.

"Your armour is at the smithy being polished, and your sword sharpened. They assured me it would not take long," Anna said mechanically as Elsa appeared. "Your breakfast and water, if you wish to clean yourself, praetor."

Elsa couldn't help but frown slightly at her slave's behaviour, but was forced to brush it aside. Now was not the time to be worried about that. There was a war to win.

So instead she just gave a nod. "Put it inside my tent. When my armour is finished, bring it to me."

Nodding, Anna ducked inside, putting the bowls carefully on the floor. There it was again, that warmth in her chest that only served to make her sad. She wasn't getting punished for her impertinent behaviour, but she had hoped that Elsa would address it, perhaps.

What was the point in a common tongue if they didn't use it to talk?

But then, perhaps Kristoff was right. They were just slaves. Anna was lucky enough (this time) to not hate sleeping with Elsa. She had been forced before, and if this was as good as it was going to get, then it wasn't so bad.

That didn't stop her wanting some reciprocation. In the seconds of Elsa's peak, Anna would just look at her – this woman, head thrown back and in the throes of pleasure, and her heart would melt; just a little. Her body would ache, crave for something that wasn't hers to want.

She was a slave. It would be best to remember her place.

* * *

The trip to the Gaul city took little over an hour. Anna was given fresh clothes to wear, though she, like every other slave who accompanied them, was armourless. It came as no surprise, but as they entered the city, she couldn't help but feel very naked, surrounded by soldiers and archers.

They were led to a meeting room – her, Elsa, and Hans – where she was told to sit behind Elsa and not say a word.

Honestly, Hans would probably be better for this job. Listening to negotiations was not something she'd ever been trained in. But, Elsa didn't know his talents, and he didn't want her to. Looked like they were both keeping secrets from the praetor...

He excused himself several hours after they'd first begun, for reasons unknown to Anna. Elsa didn't look perturbed, and neither did the Gaulish general, so it likely didn't matter. The majority of the conversation took place in Common – a simplified Latin that, despite its name, Anna had never learned. Her old masters had never seen the need to waste resources teaching her, though of course they'd forced her to learn Gaulish. Not that it was doing much good. If and when the Gaulish leader did slip into his own tongue, it was for something simple, like fetching more water or ink.

From what Anna could see, the negotiations weren't going well. She couldn't possibly imagine that the Gauls could defeat the Roman army – could defeat _Elsa_ – but they didn't seem to care.

The general was saying something, when without any warning, Elsa stood up and slammed her fisted on the table. She said something, but the general just looked at her impassively. Straightening herself, Elsa turned to Anna.

"Come, Anna," she said, switching to her native tongue. "Nothing more will get done today." She gave the general one last withering look, saying one last thing before she was gone, sweeping down the corridor.

Anna jumped to her feet, offering a short bow to the general (for old habits died hard) and rushed after the praetor. She tripped over the uneven stone of the floor, just as the wooden door behind her swung shut. Rising to her feet, knees and hands scuffed, she was just about to step away when the muffled voices behind the door made her pause.

"Gone, finally," the voice was saying. "Our man, has he left yet?"

"Yes, General," came a soft reply. "The assassin should be there before daylight ends."

Oh gods above.

Ignoring the burning pain in her knees, Anna ran as fast as she could towards the entrance to the city. From there, she could see the Roman camp. She had to warn Elsa.

Moving forward, she didn't see the new tripping hazards caused by uneven stones and people, and by sheer luck (or misfortune) she managed to not land on the floor by running into someone.

"Woah- Anna? What's wrong?"

Hans' concerned eyes bore into Anna's, and she looked away only to see how low the sun had gotten.

"Gauls- plan- assassin-" she sputtered breathlessly.

Hans' hands came to rest on her shoulders, calming her somewhat as he pulled her to the side of the busy street. "Okay, breathe," he said softly, "and start from the beginning. What's the matter?"

Scrunching her face up, Anna nodded. "I heard- the Gauls. The general has sent an assassin to get rid of Elsa. He thinks Rome won't fight without her leader."

Hans' eyes widened, and he looked pale. "Oh my gods," he said. "We have to stop them!" Reaching into his belt, he procured a small dagger. "Take this, and my horse. You'll be faster than all of us. Take out this assassin, before he kills our leader."

Nodding fiercely, Anna gripped the small knife. She'd never held a dagger before, but at the thought of Elsa being killed, she found its weight comfortable.

Now, to save her.

The camp was a bustle of activity when Anna returned. No one looked at her twice, and she was able to get to Elsa's tent not long after sundown. Too late! The assassin would already be there! But maybe Elsa wasn't. Maybe she'd stopped off to go to the smithy, or get some food. There were no candles lit inside, which was encouraging, and she dismounted the horse as silently as she could. Her knees still burned, but this task was far more important.

Taking a breath, she readied the dagger and slipped inside.

It was like pitch inside, thick and blinding. There was a soft muttering, like the sound of someone praying in the dark, and Anna had to steel herself. She'd never done this. But, for Elsa, she'd do it a thousand times.

She knew where everything in the tent was, knew where to step and where not to. Creeping forward on the silent feet of a slave, she was only a few paces behind the figure when they moved, standing up. Slowly, Anna raised the dagger – it would have to be quick and decisive.

But then a familiar _shing_ of a fire steel sounded through the tent and the assassin turned around, facing Anna.

Her heart plummeted to her feet as Elsa looked at her, eyes wide with surprise as she lifted the flint-box, little flame smoldering. Anna knew it was reflected off the dagger, knew how terrible it looked even as Elsa's expression morphed into one that had never been directed towards Anna before.

"Elsa-"

Anna didn't have a chance to finish her thought as Elsa dropped the flint-box, its contents spilling over Anna's feet. They burned, and Elsa took that opportunity to lunge forward, gripping her wrist in a vice and forcing her to drop the dagger – though Anna would have done so willingly anyway.

Using her superior strength, Elsa forced Anna to her knees. The dirt bit into the angry wound still present, but the tears Anna felt rising were not from any physical pain. That truth remained, even as Elsa's free hand appeared from nowhere, striking her across the face. She had only a moment to comprehend what had happened before Elsa had dragged her up once more and pushed her outside the tent. Throughout it all, the praetor said nothing. Through the tears and the pain, Anna couldn't see her face; she had no idea what she was thinking.

As soon as they were clear of the tent's interior, Anna felt herself being pushed to the ground again. This time, she landed heavily on her front. She couldn't hold back a cry of pain, but it went ignored as Elsa pulled her hands behind her back, tying her wrists together with what felt like a bridle.

There was a crowd of soldiers surrounding them by now. The moon had risen, giving Anna enough light to see each and every one of their faces. She rolled onto her back so she could sit up, looking at Elsa imploringly.

"Elsa, please I-"

"Quiet!" Elsa's voice rang out. "Get up."

Anna was forced roughly to her feet, though at least they weren't bound. Already her wrists were beginning to chafe, but a terrified part of her noted that this was likely not to be the worst punishment.

"Praetor!"

A soldier, running and pushing his way through the crowd, stopped Elsa for a moment, and though she still maintained a tight grip on Anna's arm, she turned away from the redhead.

The messenger said something in Latin, and though Anna only caught one word, it was enough for her blood to run cold.

 _Hans_.

Elsa said something to the messenger, and he scurried away; Anna couldn't watch him, because then she was on the move again, heading towards the center of camp. She made eye contact with Kristoff for one brief second before he'd vanished from her sight.

"What are you doing?" she asked, twisting to try and face Elsa. She was unable to keep the panic from her voice, and each question only raised its pitch until she sounded almost hysterical. "What- what's happening? Elsa what- what are you doing? What's going to happen to me? Elsa?!"

The praetor completely ignored her questions. In fact, she remained completely silent until they'd stopped walking, right near the campfire. Turning to the assembled soldiers and slaves, she began speaking. Anna still could not understand what was being said, and that terrified her more than anything. More than the way Elsa wouldn't look at her. More than the edge in her voice, more than the loudness and the anger.

The moment Elsa lead her to a hitching post, removing the bridle and using thick, coarse rope to attach her to the ring of metal, she knew exactly what was going to happen.

"No!" she cried out, looking up at Elsa desperately. "No! I was trying to save you!"

Elsa fumbled with the knot, her mask slipping for just one second, before she regained her composure. She didn't say a word.

The only chance Anna had to explain was now; "I heard a plot to kill you. Hans gave me his horse and a dagger to kill an assassin. You have to trust me!"

With a final check to make sure the knot was secure, Elsa faced Anna blankly. Without a word, she lifted a hand and pointed at the legate.

With a rapidly-blackening eye and a bloodied cloth held to his nose, Hans stepped forward.

"His own men watched as you took his horse and weapon," she said, finally in a tongue Anna could understand. "You should not have done this."

What with that, she stepped back. Anna watched as she nodded to someone unseen, before she saw nothing but white as the sharp sting of a whip tore through her flesh. She made no promises of silence; the camp was filled with the sounds of her screams and sobs as, over and over again, the whip bit down into her back, drawing more blood until Anna was covered.

The soldiers had wandered off, and Anna didn't even have the strength to stand, let alone watch them. The only reason she was upright was because of the way she was cuffed.

But, finally, the whip came down once and then no more. Just as her hot tears burned her face, Anna could feel and smell the acrid stench of blood. She shivered, but it wasn't from cold. There was no way she could stop crying, even if she wanted to; for now, they dulled the pain a little. Helped her get through it.

It felt like hours until someone came to untie her, though really, it must have only been a few minutes. As soon as she was able, Anna collapsed on the ground, hugging herself. Everything _hurt_. Why did it have to hurt? Wasn't- wasn't everything good? She thought Elsa-

But that had been her first, and biggest mistake. She thought Elsa. She thought she knew something about the praetor; thought they shared something beyond their heritage.

She was a slave and she dared to think. No wonder.

Untied from the post, she collapsed fully on the ground. She didn't look up as whomever untied her dragged her a little closer to the post. She had to bite down on her lip, hard, to stop crying out as her arms were stretched over her head.

They were tying her back up, hands around the post so she couldn't escape. As if she could even try.

They left her after that. She was close enough to the fire to see everyone, and to serve as a warning to the other slaves. It meant that she was close enough to be ignored. Elsa disappeared, for how long Anna didn't know, but she eventually returned to collect her own dinner. Wasn't like Anna was in any condition to do it, even if Elsa had wanted her to.

The praetor didn't spare her a single glance, and it made Anna's heart ache. The pain, in her head it may be, was not unlike the heat radiating from her back. She had to turn away when Elsa called over another slave, because that just pushed the knife further in.

She'd always been replaceable. She just hadn't known it.

* * *

It took hours for the revelry of the soldiers to die down. No one came to offer her dinner, and Anna wasn't even sure that she could stomach it if they did. The fire died down and the night became cool, a godsend for her back but nothing else. Soon she was shivering in her tattered clothes, the chill from the ground seeping into her skin.

No one cared if she lived or died. She was lucky that no soldier had decided they wanted a piece of her, too. Of course, that thought vanished at the sound of footsteps approaching. Anna tensed, curling in as best she could. She still smelled of blood; maybe they wouldn't want that? She was facing away from the campfire, her bloodied back on full display. Letting out a pitiful sniffle, she couldn't help jerking away when a hand came to rest on her shoulder.

"Hey, Anna..."

Kristoff's soft voice reached her ears, and somehow, Anna found the strength to turn around and face her friend.

"Kris..." she said, voice hoarse. It hurt to speak, so she didn't say anything else.

Sitting on the ground, Kristoff helped her into a sitting position, leaning against the post. He had a bowl of stew and some stale bread, and it definitely didn't taste like slave food. Somehow it was still warm, and, amazingly, he even had a new shirt for her, and a blanket.

"The legate gave me his leftovers to eat," Kristoff explained. "I'm not supposed to be here." With her hands bound, Anna couldn't eat on her own, so Kristoff lifted a spoonful of broth to her lips. The blanket was placed over her lap, and already Anna was beginning to feel warmer. Her blood ran cold at his next words. "Why did you do it?"

The stew, once delicious, now tasted like cardboard. Anna swallowed it with difficulty. "Wha- Kris you don't- you think I would do that?"

He gave her a sad look and shrugged. "I don't know what to believe."

Taking a deep breath, Anna sorted out her thoughts. "Hans lied. He- he speaks Gaulish, Kris. Elsa left the meeting, and I heard the general say that he was sending an assassin. Hans _gave_ me his dagger and horse- oh god." Eyes wide, she stared imploringly at her friend. "He wanted me to kill Elsa. There never was an assassin. Oh god..."

Struggling, it took a few seconds for Anna to remember her bound hands, and the still-seeping wounds on her back. She turned back to Kristoff. "You have to warn her. Tell her she's going to die!"

Kristoff let out a dry laugh. "She'll whip me too for talking like that." He looked away, and then before Anna had a chance to think, he lunged for her hands. Fingers scrabbling, he undid the knots, letting the rope fall away. "Run. If Rome wins this fight, you'll be hung. If it loses, you'll die anyway. Run while you still can."

Before Anna even had a chance to comprehend his words, another voice shouted through the night. A soldier, one who obviously knew Kristoff shouldn't be there. Anna had no idea what he said, but Kristoff stiffened before hunching his shoulders.

"As soon as you get a chance, just _go_ ," he whispered.

Standing up, he hurried away. Anna felt the soldier's eyes on her, but soon he passed by, leaving her alone once again. She shivered, but the blanket kept the cold at bay. Anna wasn't warm, but she definitely wasn't freezing; and now, she could actually concentrate.

It was all well and good for Kristoff to tell her to run – and she was immeasurably grateful at his attempt to help – but where could she go? Injured and alone, there was nowhere she could hide that the Roman army wouldn't find her. If not them, then starvation and dehydration would surely get to her, not to mention the high chance of simply succumbing to the wounds on her back.

She leaned heavily against the post, letting out a deep sigh. Her breath rose in front of her eyes, highlighted by the dying embers of the fire, and she became lost in the vision. She was going to die. All she'd wanted to do was find work, help her family. They'd never know what happened to her.

Closing her eyes, she felt a warm tear trickle from the corner of her eye. She was moments from wiping it away when something _cracked!_ , in the darkness beyond the fire, and her eyes flickered open.

There was another soldier, striding purposefully through the tents. It took a few moments for Anna's eyes to adjust, but when they did it took all her willpower to hold back the gasp that wanted to spring from her throat.

Hans, wearing his chainmail and a sword strapped to his side, was making his way through the camp. He was going after Elsa! ...Only, no. He was moving away from her tent, instead heading towards the edge of camp. Hans kept glancing around, his hand already on the hilt of his weapon.

There was a curling in Anna's gut, screaming at her to follow him and find out what he was planning – for he had to be planning something. He was a man who never did anything without a reason. Skulking around the middle of the night, just before a war began, was not something the legate should be doing.

Moving slightly, Anna checked to make sure no one else was awake – no soldiers returning from late-night romps, or heading out to the bathroom. There were guards on patrol, but none of them were in sight, and she began the arduous task of climbing to her feet. It took several minutes, her back screaming in agony as she opened the wounds that had barely begun to scab over. But, she did it.

After that came the walking. Each step was torture, but the thought of losing Elsa was a pain far worse, despite the fact that she was the one who had caused such physical pain in the first place. That thought was unfair, though – it had been Anna's own actions that led to this. If any other slave, or even a soldier, had done what she did, they would have been punished, too.

Making it to the edge of camp, Anna could no longer see Hans. The moon had moved behind a cloud, giving her little light to see by – but that didn't mean she couldn't hear him. His heavy footsteps seemed to crack every single leaf and twig in the vicinity. He frightened every little animal, sending them scurrying and alerting Anna as to where he had gone. She followed behind, almost silent, even though the pain in her back was growing steadily worse. Years of living as a slave had taught her the power of silence; something the lumbering legate didn't seem to understand at all.

When finally the moon reappeared, she could see behind her the Roman camp. They were a good distance from the camp – though not so far that she would have a problem returning. Hopefully. Whatever Hans was planning, she had to warn Elsa. Turning back to the legate, she stood pressed against a tree, out of sight but not out of earshot.

"I had begun to think you had forgotten us, boy." A deep, _familiar_ voice spoke first, and Anna barely contained her gasp. The leader from the negotiations! The one who had- who had made her believe there would be an assassin...

This proved Hans was conspiring with them! Or at least had some knowledge. Anna didn't move from her hiding space – she needed him to say something incriminating. She needed some proof that Elsa would believe.

Hans let out a short laugh. "You would do well to treat me with respect," he said. "Rome will destroy you unless we work together. You have the arrows and men?" Anna couldn't see them, but she assumed the Gaul nodded because Hans continued with a, "Good. The Roman army will fall to your men and you'll be known as the leader that even the praetor couldn't defeat. Congratulations. All you have to do is make sure she doesn't make it out."

This time, Anna couldn't hold back her gasp. It cut through the night, and when she heard Hans whip around, demanding to know who was there, she knew it would be the last thing she ever did unless she got away.

So, she _ran_.

Hans wasn't used to running in his armour – even though he was Roman, and he should have been able to. But, he always had a horse or a chariot. He only ever traveled by day; so, despite the freshly opened wounds on her back, Anna was still able to use those other factors to her advantage.

By the luck of the Gods, she managed to make it back to the camp before he'd caught up. She even managed to dodge the patrol, though she was by no means silent, and they had surely been alerted. Weaving amongst the tents, she made her way to Elsa's, some desperate part of her holding onto the belief that, with the praetor, she'd be safe. Hans would kill her outright – at least with Elsa, she had a chance.

The pain on her back was becoming hard to ignore. It felt like she was being whipped all over again, tearing her flesh further. She wanted to break down and cry again, but now was not the time.

"Elsa!" she screamed, turning a corner when she caught sight of a guard coming at her from the other direction. Not far now. Hans' clinking armour was still behind her, so she shouted the praetor's name again.

It was cut off when someone appeared from the darkness, striking her in the stomach. Anna dropped heavily to the ground, feeling a sharp jab in her side as whoever it was kicked her. The events of the day, and the pain in her side, finally caught up with her; it only took a few seconds for her to begin crying again, sobbing loudly against the dirt. Another swift kick to her rib did nothing to stop the harsh sobs being ripped from her throat.

In fact, the only thing that could was Elsa's voice, finally reaching Anna's ears. She must have ordered the men to stand down, because they backed off and dropped to a bow. Even Hans, though Anna could see him just barely holding in his rage. Rage and fear that Anna had heard everything.

"Elsa p-please listen," she managed to choke out. Squeezing her eyes closed, she shut out the pain as best she could. Elsa needed to know. "You- you're going to die tomorrow. I f-followed Hans. He met with the Gauls. He's going to k-kill you."

There was a light scuffle just in front of her, and opening her eyes, Anna found herself face to face with Elsa.

"Why did you return?" she asked softly. "Your lies will be the death of you." _No..._ "The legate has served Rome for years – and he will do so tomorrow. These wicked words you've spun have only ensured your sentence."

She stood up, disappearing from sight when she moved around. Anna couldn't even move her head. Elsa barked an order, and she felt herself being lifted up by two soldiers, who then marched her back towards the post. All Anna could do was try and stay on her feet, moving automatically as she tried to comprehend what had happened. The satisfied smirk on Hans' face told her everything she needed to know.

He'd won. Elsa would die, and then so would she, and there was nothing she could do about it.

* * *

The camp was packed, and they were on their way to war. Anna had awoken from her fitful sleep before dawn. Thanks to her injuries, she wasn't made to carry anything, unlike the other slaves, though she was made to join them in their march behind the soldiers.

Anna couldn't see Elsa from where she was, all the way at the back of the line. She could imagine her, regal in her armour, hair brushed into a bun and shining brightly. Her heart clenched painfully at the thought, and she stumbled.

Before long, they'd arrived at the boundaries of the city. The soldiers got into formation; great, long rows surrounding the walls. Anna could see Elsa, sitting atop her horse at the front of all the men. Her heart clenched again, stomach rolling. A messenger rode off towards the gate of the city, and the whole army waited, full of suspense. For Anna, it was for a different reason. Her mind was whirring – she'd just assumed Hans would flat-out kill Elsa. But, he couldn't. He'd be destroyed before he took two steps. Elsa inspired love and respect in her men. In... well, everyone.

So he couldn't do it himself. The meeting with the Gauls, it was about Elsa's death. But there was no way to guarantee that she would die. And Hans mentioned arrows...

Anna was already lurching forward before she'd even finished her thought. The soldiers and slaves around her didn't react until it was too late.

"The arrows! Elsa!" she screamed. The praetor didn't turn – she was too far away. The messenger, Anna could see, had just made it to the gate, waving his little flag. Not long now.

Pushing her way forward, the soldiers didn't react fast enough to stop her. They were trained to stay where they were while in formation. And once Anna found the gaps in the ranks, nothing could stop her surging towards the praetor.

"Elsa!" she screamed once more. This time, Elsa did hear her. She shifted atop her saddle, turning her upper body to glare at the interruption.

That was when an arrow embedded itself in Elsa's torso, and everything went to hell.

There was a collective kind of gasp, and all Anna could do was stare. Elsa's mouth hung open as she swayed atop her horse. They'd try again, she knew, and maybe Elsa knew that too because she gritted her teeth and raised her sword.

"Forward!" she cried, and even though it was swiftly covered by the sound of a thousand voices, crying out in unison, Anna could still hear it crack.

She began moving forward again – she had to get to Elsa – when something struck her back. It made her _scream_ as she collapsed to the ground. One small strike and it was like she was being whipped all over again. Gritting her teeth, she tried to push herself to a crawling position when she was struck again.

Struggling for breath, blackness began to overtake her vision. Looking up one last time, she could see Elsa, still seated on her horse. Good. That was good. Elsa was alive and that was all that mattered.

All... all that mattered...

* * *

The first sensation Anna became aware of was a pressure on her back. This one wasn't painful – it actually felt kind of pleasant, a coolness numbing her abused skin. Shifting slightly, she let out a groan because it definitely wasn't working on the rest of her muscles. She felt like she'd been trampled by a horse. Or an army. God, what had _happened_? She hadn't... really expected to make it out.

The noise she'd made mustn't have been as quiet as she thought it was, because suddenly there was someone in front of her.

"Oh my God, Anna, you're okay."

It took her eyes a few seconds to focus, but when they did... "Kristoff?"

The blond slave nodded. "Thank the Gods you're up. Elsa managed to order the medic to take care of you before she passed out. She told me to keep an eye on you..."

Lifting her head a little, biting back the pain that erupted with the movement, Anna turned to face another cot. Elsa was lying on it, chest moving up and down with her breathing. The arrow that had been embedded in her shoulder was gone, in its place a bandage, and Elsa actually looked at peace. She could have watched her forever, if someone hadn't burst through the tent at that moment.

"You!" they cried, pointing at Anna. Her eyes widened, but she didn't move. Couldn't move, even as the soldier moved towards her. Kristoff was useless, taking a step back. He muttered something about getting the medic, leaving Anna to the soldier.

Unceremoniously, he picked her up off her bed and forced her to her feet. He would probably have forced her from the tent if her pained cry hadn't woken Elsa. Even groggy with what was likely a fairly powerful painkiller, it only took her second to process what was happening.

"St-stop..." she said, though her voice was too weak – only Anna heard her. Trying again, she actually managed to make her voice strong enough to be heard; and, to be listened to.

"Stop!"

Everything froze for a moment, until the soldier knelt quickly in a low bow, striking the backs of Anna's knees to force her down.

"Bow, slave!" he hissed. Anna let out a choked sob as her torn hands and knees made contact with the rough earth. Why- why was it still so painful, living? Why did the Gods believe she deserved this pain? It would have been better if she had died on the battlefield. Elsa was alive and that was all that mattered. But out here, when she was inevitably killed, her death would be neither swift nor painless.

The soldier hit her again, and her body, bruised and beaten enough, let go. She landed heavily on the ground, face-first with a sickening crunch. Tears streamed down her face as she sobbed. The world around her faded until a soft hand – delicate – came up to cup her cheek.

She flinched, but hadn't the power to move away. Blood streamed from her nose and into her mouth, mixing with her tears and making her feel sick.

But the hands were soft and warm. Gently – oh _so_ gently – she was tugged to her feet. Blinded by blood and tears, she still knew who it was. The tent was silent as Elsa pulled a bucket of clean water to Anna's cot and began cleaning her face. It stung, and the process wasn't helped by her inability to stop crying. How pathetic.

Elsa didn't say a word, though. She didn't judge. She just kept wiping Anna's face, her hands and knees. Her back, which had split and begun bleeding again.

She was an absolute mess and she hated the woman in front of her. She hated her because she couldn't hate her – there was too much love and loyalty. Anna only wanted her to be safe and happy, and all it had caused her was pain. It was Elsa's fault... but Elsa hadn't made Anna fall in love. She hadn't given Anna any sign her love was returned, either.

So maybe Anna hated herself because what kind of stupid slave fell in love with, not only her master, but a praetor of the Roman Empire?

"I'm sorry," Elsa said after a while. Once Anna had calmed down and her nose had stopped bleeding. She wasn't looking at her. "I have caused you a lot of pain. Some of it... all of it... is my fault. If I had listened to you, perhaps things would have been different. You are my responsibility and I allowed you to get hurt."

Anna didn't answer. She could imagine so many possibilities if Elsa had simply listened to her. She'd hoped, perhaps in vain, that the other woman would understand her. They were kin.

When she didn't say anything, Elsa continued. "What... happened out there?" she asked softly. She still couldn't bear to look at Anna, but the slave gave a pained little sniffle. She couldn't be angry at Elsa when it was her own fault. Now that Elsa was prepared to listen, she could ensure her continued safety.

"Hans gave them arrows. He- he speaks Gaulish. The Gauls spoke of an assassin, and he told me to kill them, but it was a lie. There was no assassin, it was just you. I didn't- I didn't mean to! I never wanted to hurt you, but then I saw your face and I had."

Elsa shushed her gently. "It's okay," she said. "I always expected defiance to come from a slave, not... not my own men. I had let you get closer than most, and believed you took advantage of that trust. I am... I am so sorry, Anna."

Anna sniffed again, nodding. "I followed him," she continued. "Last night, he met with the same general we did. I heard them- he gave them arrows, Elsa. P-praetor," she corrected. Elsa looked at her for a moment before her eyes widened.

"You're certain?" she asked. "About the arrows?" Anna nodded. It wasn't enough, though, and Elsa stood up to rifle through the tent. Within seconds, she'd found the arrow they must have pulled from her shoulder, the tip still coated in blood. "Anna, I need you to come with me," she said, turning to the girl still sitting on the bed. "Can you walk?"

She could see how little Anna wanted to. The angry lines on her back, along with her bashed and bruised body... Anna likely just wanted – nay, _needed_ – rest. But, the girl gave a tight nod. Elsa saw her struggling to stand, and rushed forward to help. Though her own shoulder cried out, she could only imagine how much pain Anna was in. Arrow clutched in one hand, they began making their way to the door. Before they could take two steps, however, the flaps to the tent swung open.

"Praetor!" the legate said, glancing between Elsa's shoulder, and Anna hanging from it. He gave a short bow before stepping forward. "You shouldn't be straining yourself like that. Here, let me take the girl-"

Immediately, Elsa felt Anna tense up next to her. Perhaps Hans hadn't heard the little whimper she emitted, but he certainly saw the expression on the praetor's face, because his own hardened.

"Whatever she's told you, praetor, I assure you, it's nothing but the word of a slave. Her plan has been to end your life this whole time, and if you don't release her, she may succeed. No one can protect you if you take the word of a traitor over those of your _loyal_ servants."

"Assemble the soldiers," Elsa said softly, disregarding his words for the time being. "What happens next must be done publicly. I cannot tolerate treason in my camp."

She saw Hans' lips curl up, just a tad, as he left the tent. Soon, the bell was rung for the soldiers to gather. The medic had been waiting outside the tent, Kristoff next to him. Elsa recruited them both to help Anna up a small platform, created exclusively for addresses such as these.

"Romans!" she cried out once she'd joined the injured slave. The weakness of her voice was apparent as it disappeared into the night, but still her soldiers cheered for her. "I have some shocking news. Last night, an attempt was made on my life. We thought the perpetrator punished, but no. My slave, Anna, had the ability to undo her restraints and follow one of our own. Legate Hans."

There was a mumble amongst the men, but Hans raised his hand, a smile on his face. "It was a miracle she didn't attempt to kill me, too, after her plan to murder the praetor failed," he said. Elsa's hands clenched, and she realised that she still was still carrying the arrow that had struck her.

"A miracle," she echoed. "In following him, she learned of his ability to speak Gaulish. She learned of his ability to betray the great Roman Empire. She learned of his plan to kill me." Thrusting the arrow into air, she cried out. "Who would have the power to give our enemies our arrows?" she demanded. "Who would gain from my death? I remember the battle. It was only Anna's cry that made me turn, saving me as the arrow embedded, not in my heart, but in my shoulder. She was in my tent, with a dagger, because our legate had told her of an assassin, planning on killing me!"

The murmur in the crowd became louder, and before long there were screams and cries, demanding Hans' pay for his actions. Elsa shook her head.

"Hans, former legate and citizen of Rome, is hereby stripped of his land and his properties. He is cast out of Rome, forfeiting his position within the army to live as a traitor in lands as-yet unclaimed by our great empire!"

She only had to point at him for her men to converge, tearing his armour from his body and pushing him away. He fought, of course, but it was futile.

"If we ever see you again," she said, "Your sentence will not be so lenient."

She didn't bother watching him run, abandoning the army he had fought with, and against. Instead, she turned to Anna, who wasn't even watching the proceedings. Held up by the medic, her head was bowed and her eyes shut.

"Anna?" Elsa asked softly. The redheaded girl gave a little jerk and opened her eyes. "Come on, Anna. It's time for rest. I am afraid I have one more task to ask of you..."

* * *

Elsa couldn't find any peace. Not without Anna at her side. She wouldn't be able to sleep, either – not until she had returned, safe, to her arms. She paced the land, watching the horizon for any sign of moment. Her men sat in front of their tents, completely silent, armour on and weapons ready. At dawn, one of two things would happen. With any luck, they wouldn't need to be so prepared.

The sun had barely begun to rise when when they caught sight of movement. A soldier, stationed closer to the city, raised a signal, and Elsa's heart leapt to her throat. This was it. Soon, they would either have war, or peace. A battle or a victory.

Anna's life... or her death.

Gods above, this was a mistake. There was no way the Gaulish general would believe that she were dead. No way he'd believe that all the slaves could make it there safe – the only one injured was Anna, and Gods what if he recognised her?

This was the last thing, Elsa decided, that she was ever going to ask of Anna. The girl deserved to live the rest of her life in some modicum of peace. She would be given some money and land and time to heal. And Elsa would spend the rest of her life trying to make up for everything.

It took another half-hour for Elsa to find peace. Over the horizon, a mass of people marching their way was seen. It was an alarming, but not unexpected, sight. The men shifted where they sat, and Elsa's hand gripped the pommel of her sword for a moment. It relaxed when she noticed something she wouldn't expect on a battlefield.

The leader, being held up on either side by two of their men as they marched forward.

Elsa didn't bother waiting for Anna to arrive. She rushed forward, dropping her sword and shield in favour of taking Anna into her arms, head nuzzling close. The dried blood on Anna's hands flaked, leaving little red specks in Elsa's hair and on her shoulders. It didn't matter. None of that mattered because Anna was safe and in her arms.

"It's done," she mumbled, forehead pressing into Elsa's uninjured shoulder. She sagged, and whatever adrenaline and willpower she had been running on gave way to deep, bone-weary exhaustion. Elsa nodded, hand coming up to hold the back of her head for a moment before letting go.

Turning, she addressed her men, and the slaves who had gone with Anna on her mission. "It is done!" she cried. "This land is claimed for the Roman Empire. Tomorrow, you will return to your duties as soldiers. Tonight, it is time to feast and celebrate. For those who were a slave, you are hereby released. You are all freedmen and women of Rome."

She looked back at Anna, ignoring the cheering behind her to face the former-slave.

"What did you say?" Anna asked, a red flush on her cheeks and swaying a little under the rising sun.

Elsa smiled. "You're free. You're not a slave anymore..." Her smile faded a little before it disappeared entirely. "I will give you some of my land and money," she began. "You are beholden to no one. Congratulations..."

She wasn't given any time to dwell because Anna had stepped forward, and with her hands clasping Elsa's, she dragged her the extra few inches. Their lips met, gently at first, but stronger as Anna pressed harder for just a moment before letting go.

"I accept," she says. "Your land and money, I accept on one condition. I want you, too, Elsa. You can refuse and cast me out, but I don't want anything unless I get you, too."

Elsa stared at her, gaping for a moment before her head caught up with her heart. Taking Anna's face between her hands, she placed one more kiss on her lips, lingering for a moment before pressing their foreheads together.

"I wouldn't have it any other way."


End file.
